


The world is silent before the storm

by WahlBuilder



Series: The City and the beasts [1]
Category: Dishonored (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, High Chaos (Dishonored), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 19:53:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6624031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oleg, the archivist of the Office of the High Overseer, is chosen to take place of the High Overseer after someone brutally murdered High Overseer Campbell. Oleg has no illusions, he knows that he has been chosen only to be a puppet, but he won't allow himself to be ordered around.<br/>He has an ambitious plan to make the city survive. For that, he needs all assets he can get.<br/>Especially from the heretics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The world is silent before the storm

He opened the window. No window, no door, no wall could stop the Whaler but thus Oleg indicated that he was waiting for him. The night was damp and chill, and Oleg welcomed fresh air, after the being crammed into rooms made tight by all his brothers gathered there. He watched some his brothers patrolling outside — trying to patrol, anyway. They were on edge, all of them, lowering their guard. Walking the stones where Overseers’ blood was still fresh, etched forever into the minds of survivors.

He turned away from the window when the chill finally creeped under his shirt, and a few moments later he felt the Whaler coming in. It was not the movement of the air that didn’t know where it should rush and so rushed everywhere at once, but Monroe’s heavy gaze, boring into him.

‘Take me outside,’ Oleg said and closed his eyes as strong arms wound around his middle and hot breath brushed his ear.

He couldn’t say whether he was glad that Monroe was without his mask or not.

Light nausea was the only indication of their traversal, and as always Oleg didn't rush to open his eyes. He inhaled the scent of Monroe's coat — old leather, tobacco, rich and sweet, and sharp tang of sweat, and the underlying heavy sweetness of blood. It was heady, almost suffocating, and then Monroe trapped him, closing his coat in front of him so that they both were sharing heat inside.

Oleg opened his eyes and stared at the city.

'I was chosen to take office of the High Overseer.’

Monroe was silent, and if not for the steady heartbeat that Oleg could feel against his back through thin layers of their shirts he would have thought that the man behind him was a stone.

‘The Oracles wouldn't have allowed it,’ Oleg continued, looking at the dark city and yet, unseeing, ‘but with the blockade we can't reach them anyway. If brother Martin hadn’t disappeared, he would have been chosen. He has allies and he is loved by many.’ But now they couldn't come to a conclusion that would suit everyone, and they took the safest route. He knew what they wanted.

A puppet.

He was an archivist and never engaged in games of power and politics, though he read recordings of them in his papers.

But the High Overseer Campbell had been branded and killed and Overseer Martin had disappeared, and the fight had threatened to destroy the Overseers. Those who had survived through the night of the attack on Holger Square.

And so they had chosen him. A safest bet, pliable, easily guided.

Oleg shifted from foot to foot, and the rooftop tiling creaked under his boots. His feet were on fire, and he had to lean on the Whaler to keep himself upright.

He was so tired, and his head was pounding with pain of many hours of debates.

‘I am to answer to the Lord Regent and take my orders from him.

‘I will not.’

His words condenced to clouds and dissipated quickly in the night but he still could feel the weight of his decision.

‘What are you going to do?’

Oleg startled. The city was blurring before his eyes, and he almost forgot it was not a dream.

He couldn’t sleep much these days, for his dreams were filled with blood and bodies of his brothers and their beloved canine companions, brutally eviscerated.

But he had thought about this, too.

‘I am going to keep the city alive.’

He was no tactician, and he missed brother Martin. Martin should have been the High Overseer. He’d have been better than Oleg.

But things were what they were, and he had to work with that.

‘I need your help,’ he said.

‘Our assistance has a price,’ Monroe breathed down to him.

And Oleg needed not only one Whaler, but their whole… family.

He knew he had nothing of value for them, personally. The Abbey's funds were not his, and thin as they were because of Campbell, they could barely sustain the Overseers themselves. He had no power to offer either; the Whalers were a power of their own.

‘I understand.’

The time for debating with himself was over.

Monroe had asked only once and never pressed the issue again, but the mere question had sent Oleg spiralling down the bottomless chasm of doubt, had stirred memories he wished remained buried. It had made him think of other times, when everything had been so simple, though Oleg knew nothing could ever be simple. Never had been.

And now he was going to give his answer to the Whaler.

Oleg closed his eyes, shutting down the accusing gaze of the stars which told him only of more chaos claiming the streets and minds. ‘l place myself in your hands, Monroe. Do with me as you will.’

**Author's Note:**

> Oleg Severov is my OC, and Monroe was temporarily given to me by [my friend](http://huxindunwall.tumblr.com/).  
> Crossposted from [tumblr](http://kaimalak.tumblr.com/post/143223105140/overseerwhaler-high-chaos-au-to-some-parts-of).


End file.
